


Seventeen

by shyberius



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: 7/11, Angst, Be More Chill - Freeform, Boyf, Christine Canigula - Freeform, Cute, Fluff, Gay, Jeremy - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Michael - Freeform, Michael Mell - Freeform, Michael is a cutie as usual, More that survive, Mountain Dew Red, Mountain Dew green, New Jersey, Positive squip, Romance, SQUIP - Freeform, Slushie, The SQUIP is Michael, Two Player Game, Two rivers theatre, Will Connolly - Freeform, angsty, bmc, boyf riends - Freeform, christiiiine, george salazar - Freeform, has an actual plot I promise, jeremy heere - Freeform, joe iconis - Freeform, joe tracz, kiss, meremy, or IS he?!!!!?, rich sets a fire and he burns down the house, riends, romantic, two rivers, will roland - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-04-13 18:32:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14118372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyberius/pseuds/shyberius
Summary: Jeremy's Squip is defective. Instead of being cruel to him, it's trying to make him happy. Because, apparently, happier people are cooler.Jeremy decides to call his Squip Michael. And the thing is, everything would have Been More Chill if love wasn't involved.Or: Be More Chill, but the Squip is Michael freaking Mell.





	1. The sports field

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy gazed up at the sky. It was cloudless, pale blue, simple. This wasn't what he thought it would be.
> 
> The name came easily to him. "Michael. Your name will be Michael."

"Down it, tallass!"

Jeremy stared down at the acid green contents of the Mountain Dew in one hand. In his other hand, the pill blinked up at him like a grey, oblong eye. As he slouched against the bathroom wall, Rich stood over him, watching eagerly for the moment he would swallow the pill.

Jake was there too. A lot of people were there, actually, but Jeremy didn't want to think about that.

The thing is, maybe if he took this pill, all the people wouldn't seem so overwhelming anymore. Maybe they'd even consider them his friend.

Friend. To have one. To be one. He wanted that more than anything.

The chanting voices and scuffling of feet receded into background noise. Jeremy took a deep breath and placed the SQUIP on his tongue. Then he took a generous swig of Mountain Dew, letting it swirl around in his mouth.

The aftertaste was metallic - Jeremy wasn't sure what he had been expecting.

"It'll hurt at first," the voice of Rich floated into his ears. Jeremy couldn't see him, but he could hear the cruel grin.

And it did. But after that, he felt strangely calm.

***

Rich hadn't really told Jeremy any of the details. For instance, he knew that the SQUIP was supposed to talk to you and coerce you into action. But it had been almost two whole days, and Jeremy hadn't heard anything at all.

Nothing felt different, but the guys in the corridor would give him these looks, as if they expected something from him. Was Jeremy's SQUIP faulty? Perhaps. Trust him to get the one SQUIP that didn't work.

But the voice came in the middle of play rehearsal.

"Jeremy?" Jeremy was sat on the bench, watching Christine practise her soliloquy, smiling at her and applauding in all the right places. When he heard the voice, quiet but insistent, he whipped around to see if someone was calling him from behind. But when the voice said his name a second time, he knew exactly what it was.

He crept out of the hall, murmuring something about needing to make a call. As he strode outside, finding himself on the sports field, his mind raced. How was he supposed to talk to it? He never saw Rich speaking out loud. Was it like telepathy?

He cast a furtive glance around the field, making sure it was empty. "Hey," he said experimentally.

"Oh hey," said his SQUIP. "I was worried there. I thought you were going to ignore me or something."

"Um..." Jeremy shoved his hands into his pockets uncomfortably. A long silence stretched across the field.

"I guess I should introduce myself."

Jeremy frowned. "You're...you're my SQUIP."

"Yeah." The voice sounded deflated. "That's about it."

This was wrong - it was all wrong. SQUIPs were supposed to be suave, confident. They were supposed to make you cool. What part of being cool involved clandestine conversations in the middle of a school field?

"So...what do I do first?" Asked Jeremy, shifting from foot to foot. "To be cool?"

The voice hesitated for a second. "You name me."

"I...?" This wasn't at all what Jeremy had been expecting. He felt more lost for words than he ever had - so far, this SQUIP was making him less cool.

"I'm you're personal SQUIP now, Jeremy. You've got to give me a name." Only now did Jeremy notice that the voice had a lilting, melodic quality to it. "So every time you have a thought that you don't like, a thought that you don't want, you tell me about it. You confide in me. It's supposed to make you calmer. Happier. Happy people are cooler."

"Is that really all I have to do? Be happier?"

"To start off with."

Jeremy gazed up at the sky. It was cloudless, pale blue, simple. This wasn't what he thought it would be.

The name came easily to him. "Michael. Your name will be Michael."


	2. Jeremy's room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's it like, then?" Jeremy asked.
> 
> "What's what like?"
> 
> "Being...you know. A computer."
> 
> "Oh, great. I can control your movements, if I want to. When you go wrong on Apocalypse of the Damned, I can just make you go the right way."
> 
> Jeremy's eyes widened in the dark. "So when I was on level nine, and I felt static electricity up my arm - that was you?"

"Michael?"

"Jeremy."

It was too late for talking - or too early, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, it was 3AM and it was dark enough for Jeremy not to be embarrassed about what he was about to say.

"You won't tell anyone. You can only speak to me, can't you? No one else?"

"No one else."

"Okay. Okay," Jeremy lay on his back, taking deep breaths. A corner of his curtain was hanging down, letting a sliver of moonlight into his room. "There's a girl. Christine. And I think about her _way_ more than I should."

Michael didn't say anything. Which was almost worst that him saying something, because it meant Jeremy's words ran away with him, tumbled out in a stinking heap. "Also, mum left. She took the car. And my dad doesn't wear trousers, like ever."

Wow. He just wished his Squip would break his silence, because all these words were getting dangerous. But he couldn't stop them. "Also, I'm a mess. And it's been two weeks, and nothing's changed. Can I get a refund on you?"

"A _refund_?"

Jeremy didn't mean that last part. Michael sounded mortified. "Forget it."

"You-you can't get a refund. I'm...in your bloodstream." Now Jeremy was silent, and now Michael was the one with the words he couldn't control. "Please keep me. I've never felt...like this. Never had someone."

Jeremy lay on his side, crushing the covers in his fists. "What do you mean? You're a computer."

"All computers are different," His Squip replied defensively.

"No, actually, they're not. They're all the same model, surface, tangle of wires, hard drive."

The silence on Michael's part sounded like a wound. Jeremy would have almost felt guilty, had he not just told him his worst secrets.

"You want me to help you, right?" Said Michael. His voice was soft.

"All I want."

"Fine. I'll help you get Christine. I'll help you be less messy, more cool, whatever you want."

This was what Jeremy wanted, wasn't it? To be cool. To be wanted, to not feel sick every time he walked the corridors, to be calm and collected inside. But this Squip - no, his name was _Michael_ \- sounded like he was giving up.

Maybe they'd have to help each other.

"What's it like, then?" Jeremy asked.

"What's what like?"

"Being...you know. A computer."

"Oh, great. I can control your movements, if I want to. When you go wrong on _Apocalypse of the Damned_ , I can just make you go the right way."

Jeremy's eyes widened in the dark. "So when I was on level nine, and I felt static electricity up my arm - that was _you_?"

"Uh huh. I'm not bad at video games, for a tangle of wires."

Despite himself, despite everything, Jeremy found himself laughing. First softy, out loud, then uncontrollably into his pillow.


	3. Play rehearsal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh yeah? What am I thinking about?" Jeremy stared up at the stage set. Fake flowers, painted panels, dusty spotlights.
> 
> "Christine." Michael's voice was oddly muffled. Jeremy wondered if Squips got tired - maybe they had an exhaustible battery pack.
> 
> "I wasn't, actually. Not just now." Jeremy jumped down from the stage, hauling his backpack onto his shoulder. "I was thinking about you."

"Jeremy?"

"Michael." Jeremy's cheeks burned. "I can't talk right now. It's play rehearsal."

He was sat in one of those uncomfortable seats again, gazing up at Christine as she recited something Shakespearean. "Never mind," said Michael lightly. "I'll talk to you some other time."

A few days had passed since their conversation in the dark, and after the initial awkwardness, it had become a lot easier for Jeremy to talk to Michael. They'd snatch a few words whenever they could - when Jeremy was brushing his teeth, after he'd woken up, between classes.

Jeremy would never admit it, but he felt different. The Squip was supposed to make him cool, so that he could make friends. But, the thing was, the Squip had become his friend, and Jeremy hadn't even been trying to be cool. It had just happened.

"Hey!" Jeremy snapped out of his thoughts as Christine hopped down from the stage. Play rehearsal was over - everyone else was dispersing, chatting and making their way to the exit. "What did you think?" She asked.

"Oh, it was..." Jeremy's face reddened further.

"Eloquent?" Prompted Michael. "Melodic?"

"...Eloquent." Managed Jeremy. "Really eloquent. All the words, they were just..."

"Oh, Jeremy," she beamed, before he could finish his sentence. "Thanks so much! I do try to enunciate the words. Especially when the audience aren't used to that sort of language."

 _I'm not used to_ your _language_ , thought Jeremy. _Beautiful_ , _overexcited_ _girl language._

"I get what you mean," he nodded.

"Smile," whispered Michael. "You look like the ending scene of _Romeo and Juliet_."

So he did, and hoped it looked relaxed. Sincere. Genuine.

Christine tilted her head at him, as if he were some fascinating sonnet she couldn't decipher. "I hope you don't mind me saying this, Jeremy, but..."

Oh, no. Jeremy's palms began to sweat. But...what? She was going to call him out for something. For not knowing anything about Shakespeare. For smiling weirdly. For being a loser.

"...but you've been looking happier lately, and it suits you. Like, a lot."

Jeremy hadn't realised that he'd been holding his breath for the past few seconds. He exhaled slowly. The drama studio was silent, as everyone else had left. "Thanks."

Christine grinned widely again, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She never liked staying in one place for too long, and this conversation seemed to be her limit. "I'll see you round, Jeremy."

"I, er, yeah." Jeremy smiled again, and this time of felt less forced. "See you."

Before she left the studio, she looked at Jeremy, hard, for a few seconds. As if she were trying to see something in him. Time felt suspended.

Then she broke the spell, smiling, and flounced off.

Jeremy didn't leave straight away. He sat on the edge of the stage, his mind whirring. Why had she looked at him like that? It was weird. He wasn't used to been looked at, and he couldn't figure out whether he liked it or not.

He silence felt unnatural to him. He realised that he was so used to having a voice in his head that it was hardly ever silent.

"Do you know what I'm thinking right now?" He asked out loud, his voice echoing throughout the room.

"No, not telepathic, I'm afraid," replied Michael. "I don't think I'd choose to read your mind if I could, though."

"Why not?"

Michael chuckled. "Because I can guess what you're thinking anyway."

"Are you kidding? You've only been in my brain for, like, a month." Jeremy swung his feet underneath the stage. "I could be thinking about...I don't know. Bob Marley. How'd you guess that?"

"You're not thinking about Bob Marley."

"Oh yeah? What am I thinking about?" Jeremy stared up at the stage set. Fake flowers, painted panels, dusty spotlights.

"Christine." Michael's voice was oddly muffled. Jeremy wondered if Squips got tired - maybe they had an exhaustible battery pack.

"I wasn't, actually. Not just now." Jeremy jumped down from the stage, hauling his backpack onto his shoulder. "I was thinking about you."


	4. Jeremy's locker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy was embarrassed to admit that he knew Michael pretty well - well enough to know what he was feeling some of the time. When Michael was upset or agitated, he'd send static electricity up his arms like he was doing now.
> 
> It wasn't intentional, so Jeremy had to remind him to cut it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter? So soon?? It's more likely than you think

So Michael's happy-people-are-cooler regime was actually working. Every day Jeremy would offload all his worries to Michael, and he'd feel instantly happier. People noticed something was different about him, and they couldn't put their finger on it - something was in Jeremy's life that hadn't been there before.

Jeremy walked down the corridor in long, collected strides, almost smiling for the sake of it. He started as a hand clapped his back from behind. "Hey!" Came a familiar-sounding voice. Jeremy turned to see Jake, a friendly grin plastered to his face. "Jeremy, right?"

Jeremy's eyes widened at the use of his name. His _real_ name - not _tallass_ , not loser, not some homophobic jibe because he was in the school play (because _apparently_ that was gay). "Yeah. Yeah, that's me."

"Cool. So..." Jake stopped at his locker to take some books out. Jeremy stopped beside him apprehensively. "I'm having a Christmas party tomorrow night."

A Christmas party. Tomorrow night.

Jeremy had almost forgotten it was the Season. He just about managed to choke out, "Cool."

"Yeah." Jake grinned again, slowly, lazily. Jeremy wished he'd hurry up with whatever he wanted to tell him. "D'you wanna come?"

A Christmas party. Tomorrow night. And Jeremy was invited.

"Yeah!" He started, then realised that he wasn't supposed to sound excited. He had to sound like he did this all the time. A party. Yeah, I go to loads of those. No, I don't sit in my room all night talking to a supercomputer in my brain. "I mean...yeah, that sounds good. I think I can make it."

"Alright," Jake set off down the corridor, yelling, "See you later!" Without looking back.

He left Jeremy standing stupidly by his locker wondering if the last five minutes were real or a figment of his imagination.

"A party, huh?" Michael's voice returned, comforting in his head.

Jeremy looked around to make sure no one noticed him. "So I did get invited. Glad you heard it, otherwise I could have made it up." He headed across the corridor to the bathroom. " _Man_. A party."

"I'm guessing it's your first." Michael sounded bemused.

"My first proper one," said Jeremy defensively, viewing himself in the bathroom mirror.

A silence filled the space, only interrupted by the rhythmic dripping of a tap. "Do you really want to go?" Said Michael suddenly.

Jeremy raised an eyebrow at his reflection. "Sure I do. Why'd you even ask?"

"I don't know. I..." Michael trailed off.

Jeremy waited for his Squip to finish his sentence. Maybe he was running out of power - maybe he needed rebooting or something.

But he quickly ruled out this possibility as small sparks of static electricity began biting at his arms. He leaned against the mirror, frowning. The sparks climbed up him arms and onto his shoulders. "Michael..." He said through gritted teeth. "Stop."

Jeremy was embarrassed to admit that he knew Michael pretty well - well enough to know what he was feeling some of the time. When Michael was upset or agitated, he'd send static electricity up his arms like he was doing now.

It wasn't intentional, so Jeremy had to remind him to cut it out.

"Sorry." Michael said quietly.

The painful tingling sensation stopped, leaving behind a strange numb feeling. Jeremy exhaled sharply. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I don't believe you, but whatever." Laughing softly, Jeremy splashed some cold water over his arms to regain the feeling.

Jeremy wouldn't know it - perhaps not ever - but Michael had a secret fear. It was weird for a computer to have a fear like this, but he couldn't help it. He was _jealous_.

He was jealous of all the people who would be at that party, all the people who would get to meet Jeremy for the first time. They'd be able to see him, to talk to him. Michael knew that he could do these things, but he would never be able to touch him. He just wanted to brush his arm lightly, to feel his hair tickle his face, to bump shoulders with him.

But he couldn't do that.

Someone at that party would be able to do those things, but it was impossible for Michael.

And he didn't know why this fact hurt so much.


	5. Jeremy's room, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael took a deep breath. "I just...I just want to show you what a real friend's like, because you've never had one. So that you know. So that you won't let the wrong people into your life.
> 
> "I want to be real for you, Jeremy. And this is the most real I can be."

"Hey! Stop doing that!" Jeremy swerved the wrong way and proceeded to get eaten by a large group of zombies. (But not really - it was just in the game. Jeremy was actually sitting in his room with his eyes glued to the screen of his MacBook Pro.)

Jeremy could tell that his Squip was unhappy - sometimes, just for fun, he would hijack the game and make Jeremy lose. Was this what supercomputers did for fun?

"Doing what?" Said Michael.

Jeremy let out a groan of frustration. "You _know_ what! Cut it out and let me play in peace."

"I'm bored."

"You're a computer! Computers don't get bored." Jeremy's figure sprang back into action, the bar in the corner of the screen indicating that he only had one life left. "Don't screw this up for me, Michael."

"I'm still bored, Jeremy," Michael whined. "I wish I had arms."

Jeremy grinned. "Oh yeah? What would you do with them?"

"Play video games."

"So you could be player two." Jeremy paused the game, took a quick sip of Cola, then resumed.

"I'd rather be player one."

"Good luck with that."

Jeremy was so comfortable around Michael now, talking to him felt like breathing. He usually associated conversation with lengthy silences and awkward stares, but he fell into conversation with Michael like falling into step with an old friend. It just worked.

"Ha!" Jeremy collected the last token he needed to level up, dodging a zombie as he ran. "Oh! I was gonna ask you something," he paused the game again. "About the party."

Michael's voice took on a softer note. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Is there anything I need to...do? Or not do?" Jeremy shifted in his seat, stroking the keyboard even though he wasn't using it anymore.

"You mean like..."

"...to be cool. To get invited again. To not mess it up."

There was an unintelligible silence. Jeremy couldn't work out whether Michael was just thinking, or had shut down entirely. Finally Michael said, so quietly Jeremy could barely hear him, "Look behind you."

Jeremy did. And nearly fell out of his chair. Standing in his room was a boy of about his age, but taller. He was wearing faded jeans, black-rimmed glasses, and a red sweater covered with assorted patches. He smiled shyly, fiddling with a bracelet on his wrist. "Did I, er, mention that I can take on physical form?"

Michael. His voice belonged to Michael. "Are you..." Jeremy breathed.

"Your Squip. Yeah," Michael wrung his hands together nervously. "I wasn't going to, you know, do this for a while. I didn't want to freak you out."

Jeremy could feel his heart beating against his ribcage, but somehow everything felt unreal. "No. No, it's okay. Weird, but okay." Something about the boy standing in front of him made him want to be kind. There was something fragile about him. "Why now?" He asked.

Michael shrugged gently. "I...I've been thinking."

"You're a computer - that's your _job_."

Michael grinned, realising how much he loved it when Jeremy tried to diffuse the situation with sarcasm. His sense of humour was unique to him. "I know. But, I've been seriously thinking. You're going to meet people at this party, Jeremy. You'll make friends. Heck, you'll probably get the girl, just like you wanted.

"But maybe those friendships won't last. Maybe your relationship won't work out. You'll get hurt, because that's what happens." Michael took a deep breath. "I just...I just want to show you what a real friend's like, because you've never had one. So that you know. So that you won't let the wrong people into your life.

"I want to be _real_ for you, Jeremy. And this is the most real I can be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I made Jeremy a bit more sassy than I intended, so please forgive me. I hope you'll love sassy Jeremy as much as Michael does.


	6. Jake's house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Jeremy drove his dad's car, Michael sat in the passenger seat, jigging his leg up and down. "How come you're more nervous that me, huh?" Jeremy asked.
> 
> "Computers don't get nervous," Michael joked.

Jeremy knew that, deep down, he was supposed to be nervous. Shaking. Practically catatonic.

But he just couldn't summon that feeling - not when he had a messy-haired, red-sweatered friend walking beside him whom no one else could see.

Michael was the worst Squip that had ever been manufactured - he was supposed to be controlling, threatening and just a bit evil. That was what Squips were supposed to be. But Michael couldn't be any of these things if he tried - it just wasn't in his faulty programming.

Thus Jeremy had taken him in as a friend, while conveniently ignoring the part where he was a supercomputer implanted in his brain.

While Jeremy drove his dad's car, Michael sat in the passenger seat, jigging his leg up and down. "How come you're more nervous that me, huh?" Jeremy asked.

"Computers don't get nervous," Michael joked.

"And you said computers had feelings. So you can be bored, but not nervous." Jeremy turned to him briefly before returning his attention to the road. "So you just block out the feelings you don't want."

Michael wished he could. "Yeah, something like that."

They drive on in silence, and before Michael knew it, they were walking along the road towards Jake's house, then they were in his living room sipping a kind of vodka-lemonade mix from a red solo cup. It was all a bit of a blur.

A couple of people had made small talk with Jeremy, usually consisting of, "I've seen you around school before! Yeah, what's your name again? Jerry? Oh, _hi_ Jeremy." Jeremy considered this a success, therefore so did Michael.

About an hour in, Michael decided to disappear on him. "Hey," Jeremy whispered, hiding his mouth with his cup. "Where'd you go?"

"I can't take on physical form _all_ the time," replied Michael's voice in his head.

Jeremy convinced himself he'd be fine without Michael - he'd stand there, smiling, speaking when spoken to. It couldn't be that hard.

So it was just his luck when he saw the _host of the party_ weave his way through the crowd straight in his direction. _Nothing interesting had happened to him before - why now?_

Jake jostled his way to where Jeremy stood, wearing a panicked expression. "Is everything...okay?" Asked Jeremy experimentally.

Jake stood so close to him, he could feel his breath on his neck. "Why do you think I invited you, Heere? Why?"

Jeremy froze. He didn't know - a part of him had hoped that he was becoming cooler, but apparently that wasn't the case. "I...don't know." His voice felt small compared to the blaring music.

"Because you're the only one who can help." Jake leaned in closer so that no one else could hear them. "You're the only one who's got that...that _thing_."

"You mean..."

"The Squip."

"But I..." Jeremy's breath hitched in his throat. "I don't see what that's got to do with-"

"Rich," Jake breathed, colour rising in his face. "His Squip - it's hurting him. It's taking him over. You have to help him."

In Jeremy's eyes, Jake had always been calm and collected - he'd never let the world touch him. But now, standing in front of him, he looked desperate. Breaking. He didn't even wait for Jeremy to answer, just grabbed his wrist and half-dragged him through the living room and up the stairs, stumbling as he went. Jeremy didn't have time to think.

They reached a shut door. "He's in here," said Jake. "I've tried talking to him, but he won't listen. Maybe he'll listen to you." He clenched his fists at his sides. "Maybe you can even stop it altogether. The Squip."

"I...I don't know if I can do that." Whispered Jeremy.

Jake pushed open the door. "Try."


	7. Jake's room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How do you even know that?"
> 
> "I'm a supercomputer, Jeremy. I kinda know everything."
> 
> "Do you know everything, or just kinda everything?" Jeremy kicked open the drivers door and locked the car, Michael following in his wake. "Because there's a difference."
> 
> "Everything."

"Where are you now?" Jeremy murmured, stepping into the room. "Where are you now, right when I need you?"

Michael was silent.

It was a bedroom - Jake's bedroom, with a plain bed and sparse posters of basketball players on the walls. Rich sat in the bed with his back to Jeremy, his shoulders shaking. When he turned round, his eyes were bloodshot and his face was streaked with old tears. "Make it..." He flinched as sparks ran up his arms. "Stop..." He let out a small yelp as his Squip punished him again and again and again. Jeremy could barely watch.

Was this what Rich had been going through? And for how long? The only time Jeremy's Squip electrocuted him was to help him on a video game. The only time it punished him was _never_.

"I don't know what to do," Jeremy's voice sounded weak to his own ears.

"It..it makes me do things..." Rich carried on as if he hadn't heard Jeremy. Maybe he hadn't - maybe the Squip had blocked him from his vision. "...that I don't want to do. Not anymore."

Images flitted across Jeremy's memory: Rich shoving him aside in the corridor, Rich calling him a loner, Rich leering at him in the hallways. Had that been him, or the Squip?

Jeremy breathed a shaky sigh if relief as a familiar voice sounded in his head. _Michael, finally._ "There is a way."

"What?" Jeremy blurted out, regardless of Rich watching him.

"I said: there's a way. To deactivate us." Repeated Michael. "Just ask him about the day he brought his Squip."

"...okay?" Jeremy frowned. "Um, Rich. When you brought your Squip - what happened?"

Rich gave him a pained look. Clearly he couldn't speak so much as a sentence out of line without being punished. But he tried, and it took all the strength inside him. "I...I brought it..." He took a clumsy swig of beer, half the contents of the bottle spilling over his shirt, "and I swallowed it. With..." He winced as he got shocked again. "Green Mountain Dew."

"Great," said Michael. "Now, what's the opposite of Green Mountain Dew, Jeremy? Work it out. It's just like one of your video games."

Jeremy paused, tugging at his cardigan nervously. "But there's no such thing as Red Mountain Dew."

Michael laughed quietly.

"Michael, you're scaring me. Stop acting weird and just tell me." Jeremy muttered.

"Okay, okay, sorry - if he drinks Red Mountain Dew, his Squip deactivates. It's that simple."

"And where do we find it?"

Jeremy could practically hear Michael's grin. "Oh, I know."

Rich waited expectantly, hugging his shoulders, his teeth clenched with pain. "Well? Anything...anything you can do?"

Jeremy nodded, taking a deep breath. This was going to be a longer night than he expected. "Yes. But we - _I_ , I mean - need to get something. And you need to wait right here, okay?"

Rich said nothing. He didn't have time to, because Jeremy had swept out of the room with his car keys in his hand.

He raced down the stairs, through the crowds and out of the house, jumping into his car and hurriedly putting his key into the ignition. Michael appeared beside him, an urgent look on his face. "I'll give you directions - you just drive."

Jeremy nodded quickly, and did as Michael said. Ten minutes of silence later, Michael suddenly yelled, "Stop!"

Jeremy pulled up on the sidewalk, nearly mowing down a street lamp as he did. "We're at...the 7/11?" He turned off the engine, turning to Michael sceptically.

"The Red's on the back shelves." Michael confirmed.

"How do you even _know_ that?"

"I'm a supercomputer, Jeremy. I kinda know everything."

"Do you know _everything_ , or just _kinda_ everything?" Jeremy kicked open the drivers door and locked the car, Michael following in his wake. "Because there's a difference."

"Everything." The lights inside the 7/11 were almost blinding compared to the night outside. Jeremy's eyes could barely take in all the shelves lines with colourful packaging. A lone man on the till gave him a half-hearted nod.

"Okay, tell me where to find the Red Mountain Dew." Jeremy strolled down the aisle with renewed purpose. Then he stopped in his tracks. "Michael?"

The aisle was empty. Michael was gone, and the only thing he'd left behind was the all-too-familiar tingling of static up Jeremy's arms.

"Michael, cut it out," Jeremy said, not caring that it looked like he was talking to himself. "You're scaring me."

_Where are you now, right when I need you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, Michael's acting weird.
> 
> Also, your comments and kudos make me, a small shy writer, very happy! Hope you all have a wonderful day.
> 
> Also, it's chapter SEVEN and they go to a SEVEN ELEVEN. This pun was not intended, however, I hope it is appreciated.


	8. Seven Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What were we supposed to be doing again?"
> 
> Jeremy grinned. "I can't even remember."
> 
> "I'm a supercomputer with an infinite capacity for memory," Michael's voice said in his head, "but five seconds of kissing you, Jeremy Heere, has made me forget everything."

Michael fell silent. Again. Which left Jeremy floundering in a 7/11 at some stupid hour, trying to find a drink which he was pretty sure had stopped being produced in the 90s. When he finally spoke, Jeremy nearly walked into a shelf of fruit, cursing loudly.

"You're going to deactivate me, aren't you?" Said Michael.

"What?" Jeremy almost yelled. "So this is why you've been acting weird."

"You'd be acting weird too if you thought your only friend was going to deactivate you," Michael appeared beside him, his glasses askew and colour rising in his cheeks. He looked a mess.

Jeremy's expression softened. "Michael, no. I wouldn't do that."

"Are you...are you sure?" Michael wrung his hands together, looking at Jeremy expectantly. "Because...that's what I'd do. If I were you, and I had the chance."

Jeremy reached out instinctively to take Michael's arm, surprising himself as he pulled him gently into the back of the store. No one in the world could see them here. "Ever since I got you, all you've done is make me happy. I'm more happy than I've ever been. Because of you, Michael. Why would I get rid of the one thing that makes me happy?"

His hand was still resting on Michael's elbow, holding him there. Jeremy probably should have let go by now, but the material of his hoodie was surprisingly soft.

He didn't ever want to let go - not really.

"I'll never be like you," said Michael, his voice laced with hurt. "I'll never be real. I can only make myself solid," he tapped his chest, "for a few minutes at a time. Then my power will run out."

"I'm sorry. I am."

Suddenly a crazy sense of courage took over Jeremy. "I could make it last for longer." He said.

Michael frowned, blinking the tears out of his eyes. "What do you mean -"

It happened so quickly. After all this time, everything came down to Jeremy pressing his hand against the small of Michael's back, nudging him forward and pressing his lips to his. And they were kissing. Time stretched out in front of them endlessly.

But it was over so quickly. Michael let out a small gasp, and Jeremy was left holding on to thin air. "I couldn't..." Michael whispered. "My power..."

"It's okay," Jeremy caught his breath, the aisle spinning before him. What had just happened?

"What were we supposed to be doing again?"

Jeremy grinned. "I can't even remember."

"I'm a supercomputer with an infinite capacity for memory," Michael's voice said in his head, "but five seconds of kissing you, Jeremy Heere, has made me forget everything."

"Was I that good?" Jeremy smirked, inwardly relieved that Michael had enjoyed it. He'd wanted it too. It was okay.

"Well, it's not as if I'm experienced," replied Michael. "But yes. Yes, you were absolutely wonderful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael's not like the other Squips, huh


	9. Jake's house, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jeremy," Michael sounded almost sad, as if he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop him. "I can't let you risk your life like that."
> 
> "Actually," Jeremy put his first foot forward. "You can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the incredibly late update - I've kinda been consumed by exams lately. 
> 
> But I haven't forgotten you! And I have a plan for this story which I'm determined to carry out.
> 
> Thank you for your patience, kudos and comments!

The plan was this: get back into Jake's house, deactivate Rich's Squip, then carry on with life as normal. It couldn't be that hard - surely Rich was waiting where they'd left him.

But as soon as they pulled up on the pavement beside the house, Jeremy knew that tonight was anything but normal. Partygoers were standing outside, looking up in matching horror at Jake's house. Jeremy kicked open his car door and looked at it too - smoke was pouring out of the roof and the windows. The night sky was dimly lit by the flames which were rising up without anything to stop them.

His knuckles turned white around the bottle of Mountain Dew Red he was holding. All around a whisper rose up, repeating variations of the same words.

_Rich set a fire -_

_Rich burned down the house -_

"Rich set a fire..." Jeremy breathed in disbelief. "Michael. Michael, what if he's still in there?"

"I think everybody's out," said Michael in his head, though he sounded far from sure. "I just don't understand why he'd..."

Jeremy stopped breathing. "To deactivate his Squip. That was the only way he thought he could."

Michael caught on to what Jeremy was saying. "He couldn't have..."

Jeremy took a deep breath, and made up his mind. A wild courage took over him which was not entirely his own. Perhaps it was the kiss that had made him brave all of a sudden. "I've got to get him, Michael - I'm the only one who knows where he is."

"Jeremy," Michael sounded almost sad, as if he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop him. "I can't let you risk your life like that."

"Actually," Jeremy put his first foot forward. "You can."

"Jeremy, _no_!" For the first time, Michael sounded angry. And to prove it, he sent a shower of electric shocks which nailed Jeremy into his spot beside his car.

"Stop it." He said through gritted teeth. " _Let me go_."

"I'm not letting you go in there and die." Said Michael. Now they could really see the flames, licking the walls of the house, threatening to engulf it.

"Let me go," Jeremy clenched his fists by his sides. "Or maybe you _are_ like Rich's Squip. Controlling. Evil. But you've just been too smart to show it."

The remark hit Michael like a blow to the face. Jeremy knew he had hurt him, and as much as he regretted his words, sure enough, he felt the static electricity die down. Now he could move.

"Thank you," he breathed, and set off at a dead run toward Jake's house. The crowd barely noticed as he kicked down the door and sprinted inside. The ground floor looked largely unscathed, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before the ceiling caved in. He had to be quick.

To his relief, the stairs were still standing. He took three at a time until he reached the landing, which was charred and black. Then Jake's room.

Rich had to be in here.

Jeremy reached for the door handle, and before he could hear Michael's voice in his head yelling, "STOP!", he yanked it open.

A wall of heat crashed into him - he crumpled to the floor.

The last thing Jeremy saw that night was black.


	10. The hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael. He'd been so many things: kind, gentle, forgiving. But now the only thing he was was gone. The word - gone - rattled inside Jeremy's head like machine gun fire.

Jeremy couldn't remember how long he'd been unconscious for. Long enough, he guessed, to have absolutely no idea what had happened after he'd opened the door of Jake's room that night. When he woke up, he was lying in a hospital bed and everything hurt. "Third degree burns..." He head someone say, but the voice sounded far away and disembodied. "All over his chest."

He had no sense of time when he finally woke. The only thing he knew, as sure as anything, was that something was missing. Specifically, some _one_.

His dad was sitting next to the bed. Jeremy tried to move his neck to look at him, but that hurt too. He just concentrated on keeping his eyes open. "Dad?" He rasped.

His dad jumped from his chair and rushed to his side. "How are you feeling?" His voice was wracked with worry. But what, thought Jeremy, had he put him through? How bad was it really?

Jeremy ignored his question - how could the answer be good? - and skipped to asking his own. He deserved answers, and answers he would demand. "How long?" He began, wincing at how his voice grated. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days." Those words hit Jeremy like an unpleasant slap to the face. Anything could happen in three days. People could live; die; everything in between.

His dad seemed to know what Jeremy wanted to know, because he began telling him the whole story, his voice wobbling slightly but remaining clear. Here is what happened.

Jeremy had been lying unconscious in Jake's room for thirty seconds before the firefighters tore into the house, dragging him out of the flames. He'd been right: Rich had been inside. Both he and Jeremy were taken to safety and rushed to hospital, both with severe burns. Rich's had been worse than Jeremy's, though.

The fire had been put out, but not before the roof gave up it's fight. Everyone else was standing on the front lawn watching, and a faint drunken cheer went up when it caved in.

In the ambulance, after Jeremy and Rich had been given emergency treatment, it became clear that they were dehydrated. The only thing that Jeremy had been holding was the Red Mountain Dew, so they were both given half of the bottle each before they arrived at the hospital.

"Wait," Jeremy's eyes widened at his dad. "They gave us the _Mountain Dew_? We _drunk_ it?"

"The Mountain Dew should be the least of your worries," his dad replied. _Nothing_ , thought Jeremy, who's head had gone into a flat spin. He knew _nothing_ about what that meant.

"Dad," he said quietly, interrupting whatever his dad had been telling him about his burns and his stay in hospital, "can I...can I be alone for a minute?"

His dad's expression softened. "Of course, buddy. It's a lot for you to take in."

_You have no idea._

As soon as the door shut behind his dad, Jeremy threw his head into his hands and just stared blankly at the white bedsheets for who knew how long. The dawning realisation gnawed at his insides until he felt scraped out, empty.

Rich had got what he wanted, presumably. His Squip had been deactivated. But Jeremy? This had never been what he wanted. This emptiness.

 _Michael_. He'd been so many things: kind, gentle, forgiving. But now the only thing he was was _gone_. The word _gone_ rattled inside Jeremy's head like machine gun fire.

Images rushed back to him, unbidden. Michael's voice in his ear, comforting him through the corridor every day. Michael's silences, and the relief that flooded him when he finally spoke again. Michael helping him get to the next level of Apocalypse of the Damned. Michael taking on physical form for the first time, looking so nervous and small.

Finally, Michael being kissed by him at 7/11. The way it had felt. The way he'd sort of melted into it, not quite believing that it was real, that he could physically touch him.

What was it Michael had said to him once?

_I'll never be like you - I'll never be real._

What would it have been like? Jeremy thought all of a sudden. What would it have been like if Michael was just like him? If he had been seventeen. Just seventeen. And he'd have had a birthday, too. They could have celebrated his eighteenth birthday together, got drunk together. They could have moved to college together.

 _Gone_.

Maybe he'd never really been there in the first place.

If anything, Jeremy was happy for Rich. That was what he had wanted: for Rich to be free of his own Squip. Maybe the two of them could even be friends when all this was over.

He hastily wiped his eyes as he heard a gentle knock on the door. It was his dad. "How are you feeling?" He asked him again, just like he had a few minutes ago. Or had it been yesterday? Time was stuck in a vicious loop, in which the only thing Jeremy noticed was Michael's absence.

But he managed a shaky smile. "Better."


	11. Epilogue

_Six_ _months_ __ _later_

Graduation day. Jeremy had nearly forgotten about Michael, but not quite. Things were better now, weren't they? He and Rich were friends. They stood huddled together on the stage, looking identical in their black graduation capes.

"Okay?" Christine squeezed Jeremy's hand.

"Never been better." Jeremy gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Rich turned to them and grinned. "Save the PDA for the afterparty, losers." He winced in good nature as Christine kicked him from under her cape.

The principle was making a speech about their bright futures, or something. Jeremy's dad was late, like he was to everything. Jeremy scanned the crowd one last time for a familiar face.

Then he saw him. His hand went limp in Christine's, and he stopped breathing.

Because it was him - he was sure of it. Standing at the edge of the crowd, gazing up at him. A boy of about his age, but taller. He was wearing faded jeans, black-rimmed glasses, and a red sweater covered with assorted patches. He smiled shyly, fiddling with a bracelet on his wrist.

Michael's voice rang out inside his head. It was the first thing he'd said to him, all those months before, when Jeremy had been standing in the sports field all alone.

"Jeremy?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read, commented or given kudos! It would be amazing if you let me know what you've thought of the whole story. Feel free to check out my other works as well!


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